The young lambs followed him religiously, their eyes beaming with expectations of a rare title that only a few people would ever have.
Moros, on the other hand, had lost count of how many young kids of the Elite had received this perk by now. His brother exchanged these favours like his One on one coaching students.
To ensure that the young master show, as the money-hungry youth liked to call this event, would pass without a hitch he needed to make sure that everything would go according to the script.
First, he would need to humbly tell these arrogant little people about Ballas. Highly resistant against magic meant highly resistant against magic.
No, being wealthy, or famous or talented did not change this fact.
Although such a thing would never enter their tiny brains. They mostly saw that as a challenge to their pride.
Last time he made the mistake of just telling them about Ballas, they chose to cast magic and targeted the monsters for half an hour. Since their spells did not do anything, they told their nannies and guards to get revenge…
All in all, an hour was spent to figure out that they were indeed highly resistant to magic of all kinds.
Afterwards some kids cried, because their pride was hurt.
"Ugh, it was such a mess," muttered Moros under his breath. The mere memory alone caused him to shudder in fear, he swore to never make the mistake again.
To prevent further mishaps, he chose to speak up:
"My dear humble patrons, the creature in this dungeon, is as useless as I. Ballas, as you might have heard, could even endure an attack from someone as mighty as the Patriarch"
"On the other hand, you would merely need to touch them with a pinky to defeat them," Moros added, stopping on his tracks to turn around and look at the younglings.
All 40+ people looked at him as if he was stating the most obvious things.
"For magicians as talented and renowned as you, these things are not even worth your time, let alone your mighty magic…"
The kids cheered, envisioning themselves wielding the mighty magic of the Patriarch.
The adults however were nodding and agreeing to his statement, Moros knew that the most critical hurdle had been passed. But the danger of the situation was far from over.
Next on the agenda to stop the situation from spiralling out of control was to show that Ballas literally exploded and that the smell of said monster was worse than death if you were not used to it.
The easiest way to do so was a personal, heroic sacrifice.
And Moros did not have to wait long before a special nugget of wisdom had the brilliant idea to play a prank on her friends.
Seeing the expected development the tour guide sprinted towards the scene and threw himself in front of the kid, which had just started the worst outcome possible. Before the young 'genius' was hit in the face by the explosive, bloody reality Moros used body as a shield.
Dead silence overcame the place, a mood akin to a funeral. They all stood there, expectant of such a timely intervention, since a lowborn gutter creature like Moros had no dignity left.
Once pink skin was now elbow-deep covered in all sorts of lovely juices. Moles, eyes, ears and nose…nothing could be seen. He was now one with the blood.
To the disgust of everyone in the vicinity Moros certainly did not smell like yummy lemon, but carried the sweet odour of haunted catacombs.
They laughed at him, feeling happy and cheerful about the human now turned butchered pig.
With this little trick of his, his reputation as a lowly slave was already cemented.
The 'madcap' manoeuvre was a raging success.
After establishing the conditions, there was only one thing left for him to do, make sure that the right fattened up Ballas were killed.
Since he threw himself in harm's way to protect the wealthy brats, everyone would not want to touch a Balla without a significant distance between the two, but how should one do that?
The kids laughed at him and his misfortune, but he was okay with that.
Moros had found the perfect tool for such an occasion. What better way to achieve this feat with the help of his most trusted tool: a wooden stick
[A sharpened wooden stick]
[It has no redeeming qualities]
As the magical visor liked to describe it as. But no other tool was as perfect for the job; it was long, weighed nothing, and could poke any Ballas from a safe distance away.
"I could not bear coming closer to you, for I am covered in filth and filthy things should never taint your reputation," Moros spoke with his head looking down in shame at the floor.
"Please do take these pointy sticks, dear young masters and thrust them into the Balla I am pointing, " he smiled deeply. "I shall gladly shield you with my worthless body."
In his mind, the sweet calling of a big, fat bonus echoed like a sweet melody.
Turning around the corner of the small dungeon, the 10 fattened up Ballas jumped happily to the person that had raised them, not knowing that their time had come.
What followed can only be described as people screaming in disgust as the title-giving Ballas exploded one after another by the young kids that would certainly not eat well in the coming day.
Moros on the other hand did not care at all about what happened before him.
Every title they got, meant one more happy customer willing to throw more money at him so that he stays away from them
After all relevant parties got the title and the xp they came here for, they began to cheer loudly, letting out pure happiness that kids of their age should have, before all of a sudden stopping in their tracks and wondering why they were excited in the first place.
Moros pitied them, because what most people didn't know was that this title was not chosen because of the 2 bonus points per level-up…no, there are easier and better titles to reach said bonus.
Ballas had the side effect of rapidly altering the brain structure of its target, forcing them to mature to adulthood.
He played the fool because this was the last time these kids were allowed to be actual children and laugh at the lowly slave.
Only cold, calculating killer machines would soon be left. Their brain successfully altered to fit perfectly into the cruel world of Elysium.
"Payment is due upfront, no refunds of any kind."
Moros voice seemed distant and uncaring. To him this kind of work felt even more dirty than being covered in filth and dirt. Alas, good money was paid and the Terra family needed said funds.
A cold and voice without feelings emerged from the child, who had received the title as the earliest.
"Why not give this lowlife a bath? I grew tired of hearing his dirty mouth speak to us. My dear guad, would you kindly do so?"
With a nod the guard in question acted.
The air began to swirl around him, twisting and turning violently. A tidal wave of water emerged from his hands, shooting towards the unsuspecting Moros, hitting him straight in the chest.
Moros body shot straight through the air, bouncing with great speed into the wall of the dungeon. The impact of his body crashing into them caused the whole dungeon to vibrate.
Pieces of Stone and rubble buried Moros fully, much to the delight of the made psychos in the body of 5-6 year-olds.
"Oh, I forgot about your payment…trash"
The sound of monster cores hitting the ground filled the scene. Afterwards the 40 people simply turned around and left. They showed no concern about the fate of their guide.
Silence fell over the room…
Deadly silence…